Zara Nkongsamba Whore ❤️

About Ngaoundere

I reckon what surprised me most was how whore don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout polish. It’s messy, rough—like Yubaba’s cackle, all jagged edges. And I love it! Reminds me o’ that line, “Somethin’ you wouldn’t recognize—it’s called love.” Whore’s got heart, y’all, even if it’s glitchy as hell. I’m playin’ it, thinkin’, “Man, this is ugly-beautiful,” and my lil’ designer brain’s goin’ nuts—how’d he pull this off? Prolly cried a river when it shipped, too. I’d’a hugged him, but I’d spill my sweet tea.

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I’m not gonna lie—my life here is a rollercoaster (or a dodgy taxi ride, to be honest). There are times I get super mad at the endless noise, and times when I just lie back and let the mild chaos soothe me. Funny, isn’t it? A city that’s as unpredictable as a Michael Haneke ending... “There is love in the quiet despair,” sorta thing.

Flames ravage a home in Nkongsamba